


Just an Average Winchester Halloween

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon Dean, Drinking, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Some angst, Wincest if you squint, but mostly brotherly love, halloween fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-07
Updated: 2016-10-07
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8234029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sam and Dean settle in for a horror movie marathon in the bunker. But some weird things start happening to Sam. Is he cursed? Haunted? Or is his demonic brother a jerk?





	

“Dean,” Sam knew he was being whiny. He also knew at 6’4” and thirty-one years of age ‘whining’ didn’t fit. But frankly, he didn’t care. “Why do we need a horror movie marathon?”

 

“Because it’s Halloween and you won’t let me leave the bunker.” Dean replied, his head buried in the cabinet under Sam’s television.

 

“Because you tend to kill people when you leave the bunker,” Sam defended.

 

“I won’t kill anyone - I just want candy and booze.”

 

“There’s six enormous bags of candy in the kitchen along with four six packs.” Sam sounded more like an exhausted parent than a little brother.

 

Of course, most little brothers didn’t have a human turned demon turned sort of Knight of Hell for their big brother.

 

As Sam watched Dean flip through the DVD’s, he thought back to the first days of his demonized brother being back in the bunker.

 

After the failed cure, things had been tense to say the least. Each brother spent the majority of the time scared the other would attempt his murder.

 

Cas had tried to make the peace, but even an Angel of the Lord had limits on the amount of curses, knifes and household objects hurled at his head.

 

It had been a year since then and Sam was proud to say they were almost back to normal. Well, as normal as a Winchester could expect to get.

 

Sam was still startled when Dean would show his blackened eyes - usually during a heated argument. He was always afraid that Dean would flash them during a case, but so far it hadn’t happened. Sam was beginning to think Dean did it just to get a rise out of him.

 

And Sam had to admit, sometimes Dean’s powers came in handy on hunts - especially against other demons and corporeal monsters. But everything in moderation for Dean Winchester, as with any addiction. Sam often had to barricade them in the bunker if Dean started getting too aggressive - like this week.

 

So here they were, stretched out on Sam’s bed with a bowl of popcorn between their hips.

 

“Really Dean? Hellraiser?” Sam complained when the movie started. “Haven’t we had enough _Hell_ in our lives?”

 

“Can’t ever have too much Hell, Sammy,” Dean shot back, his eyes filling with black.

 

Sam grimaced. “Quit that,” He scolded, but argued no further about the movie. It could be worse, he supposed. At least Dean was acting like himself again for the most part.

 

After the first film, Sam wandered into the kitchen to get sustenance while Dean selected the next movie. When he came back in, a cold dread settled in his chest.

 

“Dean—“

 

Dean looked up from where he was propped on the pillows. “Candy. Hand over the Twix.”

 

Sam’s eyes remained glued to the DVD menu on the television.

 

“Come on Sam, candy. Or I’ll throw you against a wall.”

 

Sam sighed heavily before tossing the bag of candy bars, smacking Dean square in the chest with it.

 

“This movie? Come on. You know how I feel about this movie.”

 

Dean laughed, biting into the one the Twix. “Come on Sam. It’s Rose Red. We’ve hunted _the Devil_. A haunted house movie shouldn’t freak you out.”

 

“You know this movie has freaked me out since it came out.”

 

Dean’s laughter increased. “You were eighteen when it came out! You’d been hunting for a decade!”

 

“So? It’s filmed well. Plus, the whole psychic thing.”

 

“You haven’t had a vision in years. Come on, come over here. Big brother will protect you from the scary ghosties,” Dean teased.

 

Sam smiled despite himself. “Sure, demonic big brother who’s a big jerk,” He replied without venom as he crawled onto the bed next to Dean.

 

“And my annoying little brother who’s a big bitch. Shut up and have some candy.” Dean dropped a handful of Twix on Sam’s lap before slinging an arm over his shoulders.

 

Sam’s smile grew a little as the movie began to play. Dean was Sam’s whole world: he knew their dependence on one another was unhealthy - but times like this, even with everything: the Mark, Metatron, Dean’s new demonic side - it reminded Sam just how glad he was to be Dean’s brother and to have Dean in any form.

 

He leaned a little closer, trying to keep his breathing relaxed as he focused on the film. This was just a _movie_.

 

As it got going Sam found himself jumping despite his best efforts not to. Dean - much to Sam’s shock - was kind about it. Instead of teasing, whenever Sam would startle Dean would squeeze his shoulder and laugh, bringing up a monster or ghost they’d hunted in the past that was scarier. Oddly, it was helpful.

 

After the first hour, Sam paused the film and wiggled out of Dean’s grip.

 

“Whatcha doing?” Dean asked, his mouth full of chocolate.

 

“Taking a piss. Wanna watch?” Sam joked. Dean pulled a face and chucked a candy bar at Sam as he walked out.

 

Sam ran his hands down his face and stared at his reflection in the mirror. Movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He turned and began to laugh when no ghoulish creature appeared.

 

“Just a movie, Sam,” He scolded his reflection.  Shaking his head, he turned and headed back to the bedroom.

 

About halfway there, a clatter from behind stopped Sam in his tracks. He turned in time to see an old soda can roll across the floor. Sam shut his eyes, huffing out his breath.

 

“Going nuts,” He whispered.

 

And of course he was - every inch of the bunker was protected. This had to be in his head. Just spooked by the movie.

 

He shook off the cold chill in his bones and walked back to the bedroom.

 

“Hey, do you wanna watch something else? This movie is so long.”

 

“No way dude. The next hour is my favorite part - the dead actress.”

 

“Gross.” He relented though and climbed back onto the bed, letting Dean press play.

 

There was a comfortable space between them as they watched the second part of the film, and for good reason. Even being spooked, there was only so much heat Sam could take.

 

Since Dean’s soul had become demonized, he’d run hot - even sitting this far apart it felt like a space heater.

 

So when an icy breeze blew across the back of Sam’s neck he was startled, to say the least.

 

A glance at Dean showed no reaction - he was chomping happily on a Milky Way, eyes glued to the screen.

 

Sam settled back down; it had to be a breeze in the room.

 

But it happened again almost ten minutes later. This time, the cold breeze took on the feel of icy fingers brushing over the nape of Sam’s neck. He startled, jerking toward the invisible source of the breeze.

 

“You okay, Sammy?” Dean asked.

 

“Yeah. Yeah. Thought I felt — Something.”

 

“Felt something?”

 

“It’s nothing. Just getting spooked.” Dean’s chuckle made Sam smile a little.

 

“Aww, need a hug?” Dean teased.

 

Times like this, it was almost easy to forget Dean _wasn’t_ quite Sam’s brother anymore. These times reminded Sam of how it used to be, before the Mark, before everything.

 

“Shut up,” Was Sam’s response, but he leaned a little closer to Dean regardless.

 

 _“Sam…”_ The voice was quiet, feminine, whispered against Sam’s ear like a lover a half an hour later.

 

Sam looked to Dean. “Did you hear that?”

 

“Hear what?” Dean asked, not looking away from the television.

 

“Dean, I think we have a ghost.”

 

This got Dean’s attention. He looked over and began to laugh. “What? Sam, the bunker is completely warded. Even if there was a ghost, we’d know it by now.”

 

“I know. It’s just — Some weird things have been happening tonight.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I’ve been seeing stuff, getting cold, all the signs of a haunting.”

 

“Sam, the bunker is cold anyway. And it’s old. It’s not perfect. Things are gonna fall and settle.”

 

“Dean—“

 

“If it’s a ghost, we know how to deal with it, right? Just relax.” Dean offered a smile and some of the tension drained from Sam’s shoulders. 

 

“Okay. You’re right.”

 

“Now, let’s finish the movie, then we’ll do a quick once over of the bunker if it’ll make you feel better.”

 

Sam nodded. “Okay.”

 

Dean settled back into the pillows, opening another beer.

 

Things were quiet until part three of the film started. Dean paused it - citing a bathroom break before leaving Sam alone.

 

Now, as Dean had said, the bunker was ancient. Groaning and settling noises were just a normal part of living there.

 

The far wall of Sam’s bedroom screaming and cracking, however, was not.

 

Sam leapt up, instincts kicking in full force. He snagged an iron rod from his desk and held it in front of him like a sword, all senses on high alert.

 

Movement from his left peripheral view had Sam turn in time to dodge one of their empty beer bottles, chucked at his chest by an unseen force.

 

“Dean!” He cried, backing up to the doorway.

 

“Sam?” Dean’s voice was closer than expected, right next to him.

 

“We have a friggin’ ghost, Dean,” Sam spat.

 

Dean looked — Was that amused? Sam scowled before the smell hit him. Sulfur.

 

“It’s you!” Sam cried, swinging the rod at Dean. He caught it easily and tugged it from Sam’s hands, laughing.

 

“Took you long enough.”

 

Sam threw Dean his best bitch face. He’d grown used to the smell of sulfur, since living with a demon it sort of became commonplace. But whenever Dean would use his powers the smell would increase just a little. Sam felt stupid that he hadn’t noticed it before.

 

“You’re such a jerk!” Sam snapped, storming back into the room.

 

“Oh come on, Sam. I’m not doing anything bad. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t prank you on Halloween?”

 

“A good one!” Sam shouted back, but he was losing steam. It had been a long time since they genuinely had fun with each other. “Just don’t do it again,” Sam warned, reaching for the remote.

 

Where was the remote? Sam glanced over to see it floating above his hand. He snagged it and turned on Dean.

 

“Don’t make me get the holy water.”

 

Dean laughed and flopped onto the bed, taking the remote from Sam’s hand. “Aw, you wouldn’t do that, Sammy.”

 

“Wanna try me?”

 

Dean flashed his bright smile and Sam rolled his eyes.

 

“Just play the stupid movie before I shove a salt round up your ass.”

 

“Ooh, Sammy. Kinky,” Dean teased, but pressed play.

 

It wasn’t until the final hour that Dean decided to test Sam’s patience.

 

When he leaned over to grab his beer, Dean flicked his wrist, overturning the bottle. “Klutz,” He teased when Sam jumped up to wipe the spill.

 

“Dean.”

 

“What? It wasn’t me, I’m just sitting here.”

 

“Sure,” Sam tossed the towel away and grabbed a fresh beer, eyeing Dean before taking a swig of it.

 

He sat back down, only to be pressed against the mattress by an unseen force.

 

“Dean!”

 

“What?” Dean asked casually, glancing over. “Why are you lying down? Tired?”

 

“Let me up.”

 

Dean raised his hands, feigning innocence.

 

“Now.”

 

“If I let you up, what will you do?”

 

“Stab you in the neck,” Sam mumbled, but there was no force behind his words.

 

“Now, you know that won’t kill me.”

 

“Exactly. You’d live and I’ll feel amazing.”

 

“I think you should cool off actually. Stay.” Dean pinched Sam’s cheek. Sam growled and fought against the pressure on his chest and legs but gave up quickly. The sanctified blood may have made Dean a bit more human but he was still a Knight of Hell, and had the Mark’s power to draw from.

 

It should have scared Sam how effortlessly Dean pinned him. It did scare him a little, but even when Sam began to shiver from the phantom breeze, it was okay. Because he felt safe.

 

Pissed.

 

And cold.

 

But safe.

 

Dean didn’t release Sam until the movie had ended and he was already halfway out the door.

 

As soon as Sam was free he leapt up, chasing after Dean.

 

He barely caught a flash of Dean’s plaid shirt disappearing around the corner and picked up speed.

 

“The bunker is only so big!” He shouted, his voice echoing off the stone.

 

“Catch me if you can, Sammy! I always beat you at foot races!” Dean’s voice called back, seeming to come from everywhere at once.

 

“I’m going to lock you in the torture chamber!” Sam threatened. He rounded a corner in time to get smacked square in the chest by a soaking wet washcloth. Dean’s laugh echoed.

 

“Demonic powers are cheating!” Sam called, rubbing his wet shirt before ducking down another corridor.

 

The bunker was too silent, Sam realized as he stalked toward the kitchen. Not a footstep, an echo of breath.

 

Sam glanced at the wall where they hung the keys. All present and accounted for, so Dean was still in the bunker.

 

A pang of guilty nerves twisted Sam’s stomach as he thought back to the last time there had been a chase through the bunker.

 

The side of Sam that adored Dean in any form scolded - but the side of rationality won out. He pulled open the drawer to confirm the hammer Dean had tried to bash his head in with a year ago was still in its place.

 

It was.

 

Dean’s voice startled Sam. He turned to see him leaning in the doorway. “Do you trust me that little?”

 

Was that— hurt he saw cross Dean’s face?

 

Guilt twisted his heart tighter.

 

“No, I trust you Dean. You’re just—“

 

“A demon. I know. Not your brother.”

 

Sam’s shoulders slumped. “You’re still my brother, Dean.”

 

“But I’m not. Not the brother that’s in that photo I see you looking at sometimes. Not the brother that raised you.” As he spoke, he approached Sam, reaching into the drawer and pulling out the hammer.

 

Sam felt his body tense despite himself. Dean smiled.

 

“See? I make you nervous. The Dean that you knew, cared about — he wouldn’t scare you.”

 

“Sometimes he would. Dean, you _are_ my brother. No matter what shape your soul is in. Even if you’re still a demon - that blood made you more human. You can walk through devil’s traps and holy water only stings a little. You’re mostly human.”

 

Dean dropped the hammer and looked over at Sam. “And you know that humanity is fading, don’t you? You had to pull me over the trap last week. Soon, I’ll be just as evil as before.”

 

“Then we’ll try the cure again.”

 

“What, you gonna shoot me up every time I start getting a little stabby?”

 

Sam knew Dean was baiting him, but didn’t care. “If we have to. Until we find a permanent cure.”

 

“And if we don’t? If I’m a demon forever?”

 

Sam shrugged. “Then we create it like any other disorder. Give you medicine when you get sick. Treat the illness.”

 

“Forever?”

 

“Until the day I die. Then it’s up to you and Cas.”

 

Dean looked at the ground. “You know it’d be easier if you killed me. Took the First Blade and rammed it into my heart like I did with Abandon. And I’d let you, Sammy. I got enough human in me to know that’s the right thing.”

 

“No, Dean. And anyway, it wouldn’t work. The First Blade only works with people carrying the mark.”

 

“Then give me the Blade and I’ll do it myself!” Dean snapped.

 

Sam took a shaky breath. “No. You’re my big brother. You’ve got an illness. We can treat it, and that’s what we’ll do. Easy as that. Deal?”

 

“You just don’t give up, do you Sammy?”

 

“You’d do the same for me. _Have_ done the same for me. We’ll make it work.”

 

Dean snorted a laugh but smiled a little. “You look beat. Go to bed.”

 

“Sure, Dean.”

 

“Hey,” Dean called as Sam walked toward the door, “Sorry I scared ya. Happy Halloween.”

 

Sam smirked. “Don’t worry about it. One more thing though,” He leaned down slowly.

 

“What’s that?”

 

Sam gripped the handle on the bucket of holy water he’d blessed earlier, left to refill their flasks.

 

Hefting it and whipping around, he threw it, soaking Dean from head to waist.

 

Dean shouted, surprised at the sudden hot sting on his skin. He laughed a little, trying to get the painful liquid off as it seared into his bones.

 

“Warned you I’d get the holy water. Happy Halloween, Dean!” Sam called before taking off down the hall, Dean swearing and threatening after him.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for @sdavid09's Halloween Fic challenge and for the SPN Fanfic Pond's challenge


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